My father’s gift: Being wrapped in an embrace of holiness

I remember the knot in my stomach. My father and I were about to talk about my
getting a tallit. I was to begin a
rabbinic internship at a Manhattan synagogue where, I realized, all of the
clergy wore tallitot on the bimah. I
didn’t have one.

I had not wanted a tallit previously. I grew up in a Classical Reform congregation
in which no one wore a tallit or kippah.
The clergy had atarot as part of their robes, beautiful bands with
Hebrew letters representing the words “Baruch Atah Adonai
ohev amo Yisrael” (Blessed are You Adonai who loves the people of Israel)
sewn onto their robes at just the place where the atarah on a tallit
would be. This is what I had seen my dad
wear my entire life. A tallit wasn’t in
my vocabulary, but now I needed one, if for no other reason than as part of my
uniform.

Looking back, it’s funny that I was
nervous. Dad of course responded as he was prone to do, thoughtfully and with
love. My father, the one who bought me a
fabulous suit for college interviews and cut the tags off before my mom could
see the price, told me to get a tallit that was Lisa-size (I’m 5’3”) and
elegant. He didn’t want to see me in one
of those large, blue or black-striped tallises that would drown me in
fabric.

What did he do? He called our friend Ann Harris, a renowned
Judaica textile artist to set up a meeting.
The result? I own an exquisite white
tallit with understated black and gold edging and the tiniest tzitzit one might
imagine. Yes, it’s elegant and
Lisa-sized!

Since that time over 25 years ago, my
tallit wardrobe has grown. There’s the
one made with my Grandpa Morris’ tzitzit and atara. His atara is on the inside, touching my neck
and shoulders, as if his hands are resting on my shoulders lovingly as they did
when I would bend to hug him in his later sedentary years. There’s my Women of the Wall tallit, marked
with the names of our four matriarchs on the four corners reminding me of the
strong community of women with whom I stand.
And there are some older tallises that belonged to my father and
grandfather way back when — one whose insignia tells me that Dad wore it when
he was an active duty Naval Chaplain.
Each one of these I wear deliberately, switching definitively with
holidays and emotion.

And since that time, I have studied with
over 125 adults whom I’ve called to the Torah as adult b’nei mitzvah, students
who have ranged in age from 28 to 95.
Most but not all decide to wear a tallit when they are called to the
Torah, after studying about tallitot with my wise teaching partner, Judy
Weiss. Some select their own ever so
deliberately. Others wear tallitot that
long ago graced the shoulders of their fathers or grandfathers, or more
recently the shoulders of their children.
And some students are gifted exquisite prayer garments by their proud
families in honor of their achievement, and drape their shoulders with
awestruck tears in their eyes. There is
a story in each tallit.

Inge and her daughter Kathy were in the
same Adult B’nei Mitzvah class, years after her husband/Kathy’s father Kurt, a
German refugee, died. Inge explains, “Kathy and I wrapped Kurt’s tallit around us while we
were seated on the bimah. Then wore it while chanting our separate Torah
portions. The tallit was his great
grandfather‘s on his Dad’s side. The tallit bag belonged to his Mom’s
grandfather. [The tallit] has been
wrapped around all my grandsons for their [brises]. It was last used on the top
of the chuppah at my granddaughter Amy and Jeffrey’s wedding. It’s waiting for the next occasion…”

Michelle’s tallit was purchased for her by
her mother in Israel. “While my mother
never had a bat mitzvah, she wanted to pick out a special tallit for me to wear
that day. I loved it and then was able
to share it with [my daughter] Jordyn when she had her bat mitzvah three years
ago. Now, it has family significance and
hopefully will for generations to come.”

Debbie described her tallit to me:
“[It] was lovingly made in needlepoint by my aunt Ginny. She wove in my
Hebrew name into a colorful scene of Jewish symbols. It is a treasured gift and
prayer shawl connecting me to my family, beautiful memories of my studying with
you and a special group of women, who I fondly refer to as my sisters…and it
is enduring reminder for me to be Torah…”

And there are countless more stories.

This week, at the end of Shlach we find the instruction to place
fringes on the corners of our garments, a commandment for the generations to
come, too. The purpose of these fringes
is clear. We are to see the fringes and
they are to remind us of the mitzvot, specifically to do the mitzvot, and not
to stray.

The last two verses of this section and
the parshah are familiar to us from their inclusion in our liturgy, at the end
of Shema: Thus you shall be reminded to
observe all [G-d’s] commandments and to be holy to G-d. Followed by the oft-repeated reminder, I
Adonai am Your G-d who brought you out of Egypt.

Why put fringes on our garments? To remind us to do the mitzvot. And why
should we be reminded to observe the mitzvot?
So that we can be holy And why
should we be holy? Because G-d brought
us out of Egypt. We are in relationship, part of a covenant — and this is what
we need to do, act with holiness in our days and in our world.

Fringes on garments was a common practice
long ago. Professor Nili Fox explains in
The Torah a Women’s Commentary: “Since in the ancient Near East both genders
customarily wore fringed garments, and since biblical laws are commonly
prescribed for the people as a whole, we can assume that the law of tzitzit was
ordained for all Israelites, females and males.” Although increasing numbers of women have
taken on this mitzvah, there is still a lack of clarity out there. Many still think of tzitzit as a male
obligation. A look throughout our
textual tradition shows us that women may or may not be obligated to fulfill
the mitzvah of tzitzit, wearing a tallit, but we are not prohibited from
wearing a tallit.

For me, as a woman, as a rabbi, a Reform
Jew, a daughter, granddaughter, mother and aunt, one who wears, teaches about
and gifts tallitot deliberately, this is a mitzvah that has gained sanctity
through years and experiences. Wrapping
myself in a tallit wraps me in my family’s history and in the history of our
people, in the commitments and obligations of both. Enveloping myself in the fabric and tzitzit
embraces me in sacred space to learn, pray and do. It is all about holiness.

The other day two friends who are women
leaders in our congregation and nationally in the Women of Reform Judaism told
me excitedly that they had each bought a Women of the Wall tallit — a second
tallit for one, a first for the other.
They were so proud as they prepared to wear them to lead Shabbat morning
prayer and teach Torah. I was too, having
learned and led with both over the last 20 years. As we talked about our tallises in an
easygoing, natural way, I remembered that conversation with my father and
realized where I began this journey. It
began as pro forma, and became sacred.

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1 Commenton "My father’s gift: Being wrapped in an embrace of holiness"

I think about tallit often when observing you on the bimah. Almost 20 years ago you helped my daughter and her daughter create the most beautiful tallit employing the unusual art and poetry. Their family of four knotted the fringes together. Thank you, for this beautiful lesson and our memories.